


Ficlet: If You Have To Disable The Smoke Alarm To Do It, You're Doing It Wrong.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: BDSM, Citadel, M/M, shortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:16:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble prompt from ashinae: Hugh/Ioan: "You're not allowed to cook anymore."</p><p> </p><p>(I gave up on trying to hit any word count.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ficlet: If You Have To Disable The Smoke Alarm To Do It, You're Doing It Wrong.

"You're not allowed to cook anymore," Ioan says and wipes the remnants of Hugh's chemistry experiment (Ioan refuses to think of it as an attempt at cooking) off of the doorway.

"That sounded remarkably like you were giving me an order," Hugh says. He's sitting in the nook in the kitchen, his feet propped up on the step stool Ioan's going to need to get the saran wrap down from wherever Hugh hid it.

Ioan is of the opinion that his kitchen is not an appropriate place for a scavenger hunt. Hugh is of the opinion that he was reorganizing so there's more room for things like fudge. Ioan figures he's going to lose this one unless he can find Hugh a film very quickly that will require him to see a personal trainer who will beat him up unless he stops eating sweets.

There's not much chance of that. Ioan is very unlucky.

"I was," Ioan says curtly. "We're in the kitchen. I'm allowed to do that."

"Technically, you're not," Hugh says philosophically. Ioan mentally curses the renovation. He looks down at his feet.

"I'm mostly in the kitchen," he says, then steps fully into the kitchen from the pantry. Which does not count as part of the kitchen, according to the latest sketches in the contract. Which Ioan will revise as soon as he can get Hugh to agree that of course a walk-in pantry counts as part of a kitchen and not part of storage space.

Ioan suspects he will not be able to do this without heavy bribes. That's okay. He isn't above using bribery as a weapon and he knows where Hugh keeps his search history. Hugh is terrible at hiding his appreciation for pretty boys with angelic curls and a great deal of Photoshop. Ioan knows make-up artists. He can fake Photoshop. And if that fails, he can put together angelic curls with enough hair product and glitter.

"And what was that again?" Hugh asks.

"You are not allowed to cook anymore," Ioan says, more firmly this time. "No cooking, no baking, no grilling, no sandwich making-- all right, you can make sandwiches and you can use the microwave. But nothing more elaborate and you are certainly not allowed to do anything that requires actual fire."

Hugh looks very amused, which is a terrible, terrible thing full of sound and fury and Ioan not getting those shiny new handcuffs he's been wanting. He almost flinches, but continues glaring at Hugh anyway. It's his kitchen. It's his rules. Master says he can be a bad boy in the name of edible food.

"Before you came along, I never gave myself food poisoning or killed anyone," Hugh points out.

"Yes, and you probably never scorched the ceiling while trying to use a wok." Ioan points his index finger at Hugh. "No. More. Kitchening. For. You."

"Keep pointing that at me and you're going to spend the rest of the night in a posture collar and bondage," Hugh says pleasantly. Ioan drops his hand quickly. "As I was saying, I'm ordering pizza and a cleaning service. Would you like a specific type of pizza?"

"I'd like to cry myself to sleep over what you did to my kitchen," Ioan says. "And mushrooms with extra cheese."


End file.
